Here is a report from a reader in Alaska....
A Report on Cleansing Alaska's Heart
Somewhere in the middle of May of 2017, I approached my local prayer partners, Pastor Jared and Pastor Mark about cleansing Alaska's heart like Stephen Jones' group had done not long before in Minnesota for America's heartland.
Upon reading Dr. Jones' report, I had asked the Lord if perhaps we should do something similar here in Delta Junction on behalf of the heart of Alaska. The response was a startling, immediate and forceful "NO! Not in Delta." The Lord explained that Delta was not the heart of Alaska. Delta was a gateway, with its important intersection of highways at the end of the Alcan Highway. That is why our little prayer group had been led to the intercede in the gatekeeper theme.
Instead, the Lord asked me what was the "Golden Heart City" of Alaska. I suddenly realized the Fairbanks is truly the heart of Alaska that needs cleansed. Fairbanks is the largest city in the interior and is even called the Golden Heart City. There is a large heart formed of gold painted rocks prominently displayed on the embankment of the Parks Highway overpass as you enter the city via the Richardson Highway.
Fairbanks was founded on three main industries: Gold/Oil (Mammon), Military development (Lagamar, "Without Mercy") and Prostitution (Jezebel). According to research by University of Alaska Fairbanks students in 1940, the Fairbanks red light district ranked high among the top ten city industries and was one of the last in Alaska to close, still generating at least $100,000 a year in revenue up to its closure in the mid 1950s. Some of the cabins of the original Red Light District are still viewable at Pioneer Park.
So I felt led that Pioneer Park, in the center of Fairbanks, which is itself in the center of Alaska, was where the cleansing petition should happen. I also felt it was time sensitive, yet circumstances seem to prevent the three of us men from getting together and making it happen.
As it turned out, on June 3, 2017, my wife and I made a trip to Fairbanks. Two things are significant about this day. It was the Saturday before Pentecost Sunday, and it was our twenty-eighth wedding anniversary. In retrospect this was all God timing.
Part of the meaning of Pentecost is the symbolic marriage between Yahweh and Israel. At the first Pentecost, Israel was given the opportunity for the veil to be removed from her spiritual discernment and for the Word of God to become within her mouth a living sword to subdue her enemies spiritually, so that they need not resort to slaying them spiritually. But she did not enter into that covenant. Shrinking back from the fiery law, she became a carnal bride instead of the spiritual one that God desired.
Well, it seems that God wanted this cleansing act to be done by a husband and wife team, bearing double witness, on our wedding anniversary, that incidentally added up to 4 (completeness of created things--earth) 7's (perfection of spiritual things--heaven). Thus it was that we found ourselves at Pioneer Park with bread and wine in hand. Well, it was grape/chia seed kombucha and gluten free super-grain crackers actually, but the general concept was intact.
Upon our arrival, we went to the Gold Rush Village, composed of Gold Rush era buildings which had been moved from around the Fairbanks area to Pioneer Park and restored. Now they are used for shops and food vendors to collect tourist dollars, but in their day they had been hotels and saloons and churches and other structures including the infamous cabins of the red light district.
The first place we stopped was the little 1906 era First Presbyterian Church, the first church to be built in Fairbanks. We went inside and there on the front pew, Gaylene and I offered our prayer for cleansing of Alaska's heart. To redeem the land, however, we wanted dirt, so we walked down the boardwalk until we found a little plot of grass with some picnic benches on it. There we shared communion with each other and the earth, tucking a cracker into the grass and spilling a bit of grape Kombucha upon the sod.
My intention at that point was to go and anoint one of the cabins which bore a plaque, proudly proclaiming that it had once served the ladies of the night. However, as we arose to go, my wife pointed out the nearby raven sculpture. It was a huge steel bird, taller than a man that overlooked a major intersection of the Gold Rush Village street. Gaylene said we should anoint it. Immediately my spirit agreed.
Raven has massive significance in Alaska native culture. In fact, the Tlingit, Haida, Tsimshian, BellaBella, and Kwakiutl all viewed the raven as the creator of the world and bringer of daylight. The raven is also important in the creation myths by the Eskimo. Raven is known as being fickle and unpredictable as the seasons. He was a shapechanger, who could assume any form, human or animal. Raven was a glutton and trickster, but he showed pity for the naked people he found in a giant clamshell. His trickery brought them the essentials for existence in a harsh world – game and fish and fowl, fire, clothing, shelter – and with them the rituals that would protect them from the dark spirits lurking about. So we walked over to the raven and anointed him with Kombucha, asking Father God to cleanse Alaska from ancient shamanism and spiritism originating with the native people.
Once again we set out for the hooker house, but my attention was caught by the massive gold dredge scoops decoratively framing the gravel pad where Raven roosted. They needed anointing. Out came the Kombucha and we cleansed the spirit of greed and mammon from our land.
Now we were ready for the house of ill repute. Standing on the boardwalk, I anointed its vintage log corner and asked Heaven's cleansing from the Spirit of whoredom. As we walked past the open front door, the clerk inside tending artwork beamed and waved at us, unaware of what had just been banished from his shop.
Now we were ready to leave the park...or so we thought.
"Anything else we should cleanse?" I asked my wife.
"Independence." She said. "Alaskans have always been characterized by a fierce sense of independence."
Very true. "The spirit of Korah." I said.
"What?"
"Korah. He wanted to be his own authority. He didn't need Aaron telling him what to do."
My eyes were drawn to the sternwheeler Riverboat Nenana which had been converted into a museum. But I didn't bite. "Let's wander around and see if we can find something that symbolizes independence," I suggested.
"How about the riverboat?" my wife responded.
That confirmed that. We anointed the riverboat and cleansed the spirit of independence that feeds pride and resists unity. Then we walked inside. Most of the interior of the boat was taken up with a 300 foot long, detailed diorama of the Yukon River route that the SS Nenana would have traveled in her day. Around every bend of the model river was depicted a miniature settlement like it had looked at the turn of the twentieth century. We saw structures ranging from birch bark hovels, to log cabins to clapboard two-story mercantiles in such villages as Nenana, Stevens Village, Rampart, Tanana, Ruby, Galena, Nulato, Holy Cross, Russian Mission and more. Each one standing as an isolated and independent community, eking out a fierce and independent living from the harsh land, yet all connected by the common river that flowed through each one--their lifeblood, bringing in supplies and transporting people throughout the region. I thought of the river of life flowing from the throne of God and I thanked Him that he was fulfilling His covenant of redemption in this Jubilee year. I thanked Him for his promise that he would someday be all in all.
Awed by the symbolism, we left and headed toward the parking lot to find our vehicle. We were walking at a brisk pace, discussing what had just happened when we passed a cannon. I was several steps beyond it before I noticed the voice of Father asking me to go back and anoint it. So I did. I asked for cleansing of the land from oppression and violence. Whether that involves the military currently stationed at state of the art bases like Fort Wainwright or Eielson Air Force Base; the WW2 units that pushed the 1700 miles of Alaska Highway through muskeg, permafrost and forest to meet the Japanese in the struggle for control of the Aleutian archipelago; or the whalers and Russian fur traders who were the first white men to make landfall, pillaging and raping the native population as they came.
My wife tugged at my sleeve. "We need to get out of the way. There's a wedding about to start."
Sure enough, just on the other side of the ornamental cannon, rows of folding chairs had been set out under the Alaskan sun, facing a pavilion. People were already seated. The bride was visible, dressed in white gown, framed in an arched gate that provided access to the park. Embarrassed, wife and I skedaddled to our vehicle.
I wasn't until we were driving down the road that it hit me. A wedding! What a confirmation. We had cleansed the heart of Alaska on our 28th anniversary, a number speaking of completion of one era. Now, on a spiritual level, we had transitioned to the beginning of a new marriage. Hagar had become Sarah. Our land was cleansed and reborn. Heaven had been unveiled. The bride has made herself ready. The bridegroom cometh. Let us go out to meet him, and let His Kingdom come and His will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.
